Just Between Us…

secret

I’m about to lay some top secret information on you.  You’ve got to keep this quiet, though.  Every once in a while, a kid tells you something and asks you to keep it confidential.  I recently received two highly sensitive pieces of information from the same kid.

One day last week, Bless His Little Heart announced to me that he speaks Jamaican.

“Oh?” I queried.  “Say something to me in Jamaican.”

“Que pasa!” he replied proudly.

Highly impressed, I passed along his linguistic prowess to his teacher, Witty Colleague, who happens to be bilingual herself.  She, of course, was greatly appreciative of this news and so reciprocated, sharing some amazing intelligence of her own.

It seems that little dude laid some very delicate information on her as well.

“Mrs. Witty Colleague, can I tell you a secret?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Don’t tell anyone I’m Kid Danger.  Promise?” he asked.

“Okay, I promise,” Witty replied.

I shall henceforth refer to this little dude as Kid Danger.  For obvious reasons.

So, I’m serious.  Y’all keep this on the down low.  Don’t make me hunt you down!

Friday’s Saddest and Funniest Moments

I’ll start with the saddest moment and get it out of the way.  After all, we have to begin a new week tomorrow.

So this little girl comes to me first thing in the morning and says, “I told my dad that my tummy hurts.  He told my mom.  My mom says she’s going to pick me up early and take me to the doctor.”  It’s a new year, I haven’t quite figured out all the arrangements yet, but apparently this is a shared custody thing. 

I said, “No worries, when she comes they’ll call us from the office,” and I promptly forgot about it.

Fast forward to the end of the day.  All my little darlings are seated on the carpet with their belongings as I finish reading the chapter book we’ve been working on all week.  She raises her hand and says, “My mom lied to my dad.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, bewildered.

“She said she was going to take me to the doctor and she didn’t.”

With that out of the way…

After school, I was waiting with my daycare van dismissal group.  I was approached by a little dude, made famous by an earlier post, Bless His Little Heart (https://notyourmamasteacher.wordpress.com/2014/08/26/bless-his-little-heart/ ).  He says to me, “Guess what I’m doing this weekend.”

“Hmm…Hanging out at the mall, scamming cute chicks?”

“Nope,” shaking his six-year-old head.  “Guess again.”

“Building a rocket and going to the moon?  Digging to China?  Help me out, dude, I’m running out of ideas.”

“I’m getting my hair cut,” he said proudly.

I looked at him.  He wears his hair like many African-American little boys do, cut very closely.  He didn’t seem to need a haircut, but what do I know?

“So your hair’s too long, is it?” I asked.

“Yep.  I’m gonna get a star cut in it, and a J for my name,” he elaborated.

I pondered this for a moment.  “Maybe I should get a star cut in my hair and a J, too,” I said, trying to picture my auburn curls cut short enough to carve a star on my scalp. 

“Nope,” he said.  “That’s just for boys.  I’m growing a mustache, too.”  He got very close so I could see.

“Oh, yeah, there it is.  Hey, maybe I need a mustache,” I thought out loud.

Sadly, that’s only for boys, too.  Ah, well.